#and lily was raised catholic but she doesn’t go to church or anything. just catholic enough to want to give her kids a godparent

[drivingsideways]

WIP Wednesday

So @rain-hat​ said I should post a bit from the latest fic so she can read it (properly formatted and not in a chat window, I think??), so here’s a bit from an as yet untitled fic set post-canon verse TKEM, featuring our favourite cop-who-got-a-different-life and also orphan-who-got-a-different-life thanks to Lee Gon being a total ass. 

The White Lily Orphanage isn’t a state organization, instead it’s run by the nuns from the Sisters of the St.Paul of Chartres Convent, one of the earliest established Catholic orders in the Kingdom. It’s not a large home- they have the ability to take in around twenty children at a time, though at the moment they have only half the number. The youngest right now is a three year old ball of sunshine, Jia and the oldest is the lanky fourteen year old Jihun. Hyeon-Min has been attending Mass at the church attached to the convent with eomma since- well, since he was ten.

(God sent Prince Buyeong to us, eomma had said, having found God via the kindness of a stranger, we must be grateful.

Hyeon-min had accepted her explanation then, and now, twenty years later, he doesn’t feel the need to tarnish her faith with his cynicism. He maybe agnostic about God, but he knows that the sisters are kind, that they try to do their best by their young charges, and that’s enough.

He knows enough about the world that he believes that one of its rules should be to pass on the kindness of strangers.)

He parks his bike and grabs his gym bag with the change of clothes, noting a rather beaten up looking sedan in the parking lot. Perhaps there were some potential adopters visiting today, not a very frequent occurrence.

The rates of adoptions in Corea were low, compared to the number of children who needed families. Usually, children who lost their parents were taken in by grandparents, if they were still alive, or the parents’ siblings, if they were not. The ones who ended up in the system- they were truly society’s rejects, the ones who had no one left who cared about them; a patrilineal society obsessed with bloodlines didn’t see them as anything but an inconvenience, or a shameful secret. That their own king was an orphan was not a hypocrisy; Lee Gon was king first, orphan second.

The slack with respect to the less nobly orphaned was picked up by religious or charitable trusts, and only a little by the government. The rules governing adoption were prohibitive- Seo Ryeong had told him about the circles that eomeonim and she had to run to officially take Gyeong-ah into the family. At some point, it had come down to bribery. She’d been tight-lipped and her eyes had glinted in fury, when she’d told him,  though it had already been far enough in the past that Gyeong-ah no longer woke up crying from nightmares, and didn’t stuff her food down at each meal as though she didn’t know when she’d next get one, or try to take as little room as possible in their already tiny apartment.

Gyeong-ah usually accompanies him on these visits too, though she couldn’t make it today.

“LET ME SLEEP” she’d texted in all caps, “I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE FOR AT LEAST 24 HRS HYUNGNIM” .

He figured that meant she’d drop by when he wasn’t around.

 Jia-ya is the first one to spot him when he enters the common room, which is where the kids are normally, at this hour. She runs toward him, almost tripping on her toes, with her hands already raised high above her head. He drops the bag on the floor and swings her up, twirling her around, while she squeals delightedly. When he lowers her, she throws her arms around his neck, placing a candy-sticky kiss on his cheek.

“Hyungnim, where were you??” she demands. “You’ve gone so long that Chia forgot you”.

Chia is her favourite toy- a rather ratty looking cloth panda.

“Sorry Jia-ya” he says, “I had a lot of work”

She pouts. “Have you got chocolate?”

“Mmmhmm” he replies, nodding, “But let’s share with everyone later, ok?”

He puts her down on the floor, and turns to the others who’ve come up, all grinning, except Jihun, who’s trying to look unconcerned, remaining where he’s seated at one of the two computers, headphones in, fingers flying rapidly over the keyboard.

“Hey everyone” he says, reaching out to ruffle a head, tweak a chin. “Ready for a game?”

They’ve got a small basketball court at the back, not professional, by any means, but enough for the kids to work out some of their energy. For soccer, and other games, Gyeong-ah and he take them to a nearby sports club. Ryeong-ah had been the one who worked out a deal with the local residents association that owned the club when she’d made Assemblywoman; it was her constituency after all, and she had cultivated her relationships at local level, as much as she had in the higher echelons. Thanks to (former) Assemblywoman Koo, the kids now had access on alternate Sundays to the club. Luckily, the Sisters of St.Paul of Chartres weren’t too strict about preserving the holiness of the  Sabbath rest; as long as the kids attended Mass in the morning, the rest of the day could be spent as they wished. Today is a Sunday when they don’t have access to the sports club, so Hyeon-Min’s plans are adjusted accordingly- a game, then lunch with everyone, and then piling them all into the small van the orphanage has and taking them for ice cream, before he has to drop back at the station, just to check in on Woo Ji-hyun and Bo-Young who have the day shift today.

“Where’s Sister Lee?” he asks, and twelve-year old Su-bin pipes up “She has a visitor today” and her twin, Yun-seo adds, “He’s a handsome oppa”.

“Is he now?’ Hyeon-min grins down at her.

“Not as cool as you, hyungnim” she assures him earnestly.

“Drop the flattery” he tells her seriously, “You’re not getting an extra scoop later. Everyone go on and get changed.”

The twins and the others- Ming-yu, Jun-ho, Min-su, Seong-min, Min-ji and Eun-ji- dart off.

He picks up his bag again, heading off to the guest room to get changed, calling “Jihun-a, c’mon, let’s go” only to get a shoulder lifted in a shrug, Jihun not even bothering to look at him.

Well, he thought, that was new.

He didn’t press him, confident that Jihun would find his way out later. The problem, perhaps, was that Jihun was a few years older than the others, almost fifteen, ready for high school. The next oldest were the twins, at twelve, and the others fell between nine and eleven, except Jia, who was everybody’s darling at three.

Jihun was preparing to write the same scholarship exam that Hyeon-Min had taken all those years ago, to get into CNA. His grades at the local public school were pretty good, and he excelled especially at art- but it was a tough school to get into, given the sheer number of candidates applying, even more than when Hyeon-Min and Ryeong-ah had given the test.

Hyeon-min thought he could recognize in Jihun the same kind of hunger that he’d seen in Ryeong-ah, all those years ago. And just like all those years ago, one part of him was amazed, and proud; another was just scared for Jihun, for what the world might do to him, outside of the safety of this place. He tried to shrug the fear off- what use could it be to Jihun- and had begun helping him prepare for the test, instead.

Perhaps Jihun was upset because he hadn’t been able to come by for three weeks, although he’d spoken to him a few times on the phone and had checked in with Sister Lee as well.

When he changes into his shorts and t-shirt and comes back to check in, Jihun’s disappeared. Perhaps he’d changed his mind and decided to join the game, after all.

He’s about to duck out of the room, when Sister Lee comes in accompanied by a young man- the “handsome oppa” of Yun-seo’s description, clearly.

“Ah, Inspector Kang” she says, giving him her usual warm smile. “Good morning. You finally have a day off, I see.”

“Good morning, Sister Lee” he greets her, bowing.

She turns to the man with her.

“This is Senior Inspector Kang Hyeon-min from Busan PD” she says, and the man gives him a strangely assessing look, and bows. He’s fair, slightly shorter than Hyeon-Min, a dark eyes and a sharp nose in a square-jawed face. The glasses and the clothes- a light blue button down shirt that’s unbuttoned at the collar over khaki slacks,  give him the look of a librarian on vacation. He’s probably a few years younger than Hyeon-Min.

“I’m Kim Jun-Yeong” he says, bowing toward Hyeon-Min.

“Mr.Kim teaches art at the school” she says, meaning the local public school all the kids here attend. “He came by to talk about Jihun.”

“Is something the matter?” Hyeon-min asks, immediately. “Is Jihun in trouble?”

“Nothing like that” Mr.Kim says, with a smile. “In fact, I came by to chat with Sister Lee about Jihun’s future plans. He told me that he was preparing for admission at CNA.”

Hyeon-Min nods. “I’m trying to help out” he says. “When I can.”

“Inspector Kang has been a huge support to the children here for years” Sister Lee says, giving him another warm smile. “And since he’s a CNA alumnus himself, he’s probably the best suited to help Jihun ace the exam.”

“Yes, of course”, Mr.Kim says, adding, “Jihun-a has told me a lot about you already, Senior Inspector Kang.”

“Oh” says Hyeon-Min, politely, “He’s never mentioned you to me.”

Something wry passes over Mr. Kim’s face at that, and it makes Hyeon-min feel a little silly.

“Mr. Kim is of the opinion that Jihun should perhaps try for an art school later” Sister Lee says, “And finish high school at some school less demanding than CNA, Kang-ssi”.

“Did Jihun-a say that’s what he wants to do?” Hyeon-min asks, stunned. Jihun had never mentioned it to him.

There’s an awkward silence.

“He did seem open to the idea” Mr.Kim says, sounding a little apologetic. “He started asking me about art schools and scholarships a while ago. I didn’t know then that you were already preparing him for the CNA entrance.”

‘But” says Hyeon-min, feeling like the rug had been pulled from under his feet.

Sister Lee says, thoughtfully, “Perhaps he was uncomfortable bringing it up with me or you, Kang-ssi.”

“We never forced him”, Hyeon-min feels compelled to protest.

“Jihun-a admires you a lot, Kang-ssi” Mr.Kim murmurs, “It is but natural he would want to follow in your footsteps.”

Hyeon-min looks at him and meets that calmly assessing look again.

“Did he ask you to meet Sister Lee and talk about this?”

“No” says Mr.Kim, “He didn’t. In fact, I think he was a little upset when he saw me today.”

Well, that explained earlier, Hyeon-Min realizes.

“Will you—” starts Sister Lee, nodding toward back, from where they can already here the shouts of the children.

“Yes” Hyeon-Min answers. “I’ll have a chat with him.”

“Good” she says, smiling again at him. “I’ll talk to him later as well.”

She turns to the teacher.

“Mr.Kim, I really appreciate your dropping by. It’s not often we get teachers who are so concerned with the well-being of our students.”

Mr.Kim says, quietly, “I was brought up in a home too- not as good as this one” he adds. “I know what it’s like.”

Oh.

Well, now, Hyeon-Min feels like a total piece of shit.

“Thank you, Kim-ssi” he says, and tries to infuse it with something more than stiff formality.

Mr.Kim gives him a short nod.

“I’d better head over before the fighting starts” Hyeon-min says, giving Sister Lee a smile. “I’ll see you at lunch, Sister Lee.”

They part ways, and when Hyeon-min reaches the court just in time to stop Min-ji from punching Eun-ji in the face, he sees that Jihun is there as well, but sitting on the side-lines, playing with Jia, although he’s changed into game clothes as well.

He darts a glance at Hyeon-min and then quickly looks away, flushing.

Hyeon-min jogs up to him.

“Get in” he says, clapping him on the back, “So I don’t have to keep the peace all by myself”

Jihun looks up at him, uncertain, as though he’d expected Hyeon-min to be- angry- with him.

“Jihun-a” he says, holding out a hand toward him, “ C’mon.”

Jihun takes his hand and lets himself be hauled up, and Hyeon-min even manages to get a one-armed hug in before he scampers off, suddenly cheerful.

 It’s a good game, and after, as they’re all chattering at the lunch table, Gyeong-ah comes in and plonks herself down opposite the twins, and they stuff themselves to the gills before piling into the van.

Gyeong-ah’s driving, and as they pull out of the gate, Hyeon-min notices a black Hummer parked in the alley, five cars away,  the glasses shaded so dark, he can’t see inside.

He has an idle moment of wondering what a car like that was doing in the neighbourhood but is distracted by Jia-ya climbing into his lap to tell him all about Chia’s adventures in the place she calls “Funderland” (like Wonderland, but fun, she insists).

 On the way back, Gyeong-ah drives again, and this time the kids are mostly in a food coma, some of them burping softly, sprawling on the seats, so he gets a chance to talk to Jihun, settling beside him, right at the back.

“So” he says, “art school, huh?”

Jihun glances at him quickly and then away, head bent.

“Do you know which ones you’re interested in?”

Jihun looks up then.

“You’re not angry?” he asks, uncertainty writ large on his young face.

“Just surprised” Hyeon-min admits. “Why didn’t you ever tell me or Sister Lee? You know we wouldn’t have stopped you.”

He shrugs, looking away.

“Everyone’s expecting me to become the first CNA graduate from the home” he says, softly. “All these years”.

“Nobody wants you to be anything other than happy, Jihun-a” Hyeon-min contradicts him, gently. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you any other idea.”

Jihun turns to him.

“I did think I wanted that too” he says, candidly. “But then—I don’t know, hyungnim, frankly, it sounds like an awful place in other ways.”

“Who’ve you been talking to?” Hyeon-min asks, surprised, because he’d never said anything to Jihun about it other than good things about the academics, and the opportunities it would open up for him.

Jihun gives him a pitying look.

“Hyungnim” he says, “You know the internet is a thing right? Or was it not a thing when you were young?”

“Hey” he says, “I’m thirty-one, not a dinosaur.”

Jihun looks unconvinced.

“Student forums” he says, helpfully. “And even Mr.Kim—”

“Mr.Kim went to CNA?” Hyeon-min asks, surprised again.

“No” says Jihun, “But I think he knows people. He’s a teacher, right, he knows this stuff.”

“Hmm” says Hyeon-min, miffed.

Jihun eyes him again. “Are you angry I didn’t tell you, but I told Mr.Kim?”

Wow, Hyeon-min thinks, dissected by a fourteen-year old, wonderful.

“Don’t give me your backchat, Jihun-a” he says, and Jihun grins at him.

Hyeon-min diverts the talk into the art schools he’s interested in, and they spend the rest of the ride like that.

 Later, before Gyeong-ah and he head off, they have a talk with Sister Lee.

Sister Lee Jeong-hui- or “Dragon Lady” as Gyeong-ah liked to call her- was a petite woman with delicate wrists, and long fingered hands that poked out of the sleeves of her habit. Unlike most of her contemporaries, she’d joined the Order, not as a young girl, but in her mid-thirties, after making a name for herself as a labour rights lawyer, working up north, in the mining communities. She’d moved to Busan when her health took a downturn- her asthma was something terrible- and she’d been shunted around the diocese until ending up at the orphanage ten years ago. She’d taken one look at the lackadaisical administration of the Orphanage- then run by Sister Pa, who was already in her seventies, taken a deep breath, and got to work. She’d transformed the place, scrounging funding wherever she could- sometimes by just persistently annoying the powers that be- and was currently in a long drawn out battle with the Bishop of the Diocese over her demand that they expand their current home to start a support home for single mothers- the people most likely to abandon their children, for lack of resources and societal stigma.

They talk about her latest efforts in that direction, after Hyeon-min tells her about his conversation with Jihun.

“Thank you Inspector Kang” she says, softly, “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Of course not” he says, staunchly, though perhaps he was, a little. “Jihun’s going to be great at whatever he does.”

“Yes” she agrees, a fond smile transforming her rather grave face into loveliness. “He’s a blessed child”.

“Anyway” she says, sighing, “Perhaps it’s just as well. Even with a scholarship, funding for other expenses would have always been a tension. This way, we have some time to prepare before he goes to art school.”

Gyeong-ah says, “What did the Welfare Association say?”

When the Diocese had hummed-and-hawed about the home for women, Sister Lee had turned elsewhere.

Sister Lee makes a rather un-saintly face. “That government policy doesn’t include- and you won’t believe this, or perhaps you will- doesn’t include subsidizing and rewarding irresponsible behaviour”.

“I thought Ryeong-ah said they had a specific budget for women’s welfare” Gyeong-ah says, hotly. “They can’t deny it only to some women, can they? Plus it’s a discretionary budget.”

Sister Lee sighs. “Child, I don’t know if I have the energy to fight that battle right now. If we had someone on the Committee there- but it’s all bureaucrats who think of it as a sinecure position really…”

She shrugs, and pats Gyeong-ah’s shoulder, comforting.

“I’m not giving up, Seo-Gyeong” she says, “Not yet.”

They bid her goodbye.

 As she puts on her helmet and climbs onto the bike, Gyeong-ah says, abruptly, “Sometimes I’m so angry with unnie for what she did- because she fucked up her chance to help people like Sister Lee, who really need her”.

“ Song & Kim will get her out” he says, “Right?”

“But what about after?” she argues, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Her political career is probably over.”

“It’s never over with Ryeong-ah” he reminds her, belting his own helmet, and adjusting the strap of his gym bag over his jacket.

As they drive out of the gate, he sees that the Hummer isn’t there anymore.

#wip wednesday #tkem #this entire section is full of characters #that i have no idea where they came from #they just wrote themselves in #DO NOT BLAME ME #'WRITE A ROM COM ' SHE SAID #' I WILL ' #I SAID #AND THEN I DIDN'T

[nsfwviolets]

so tumblr is annoying & decided to delete my intro post !! but since i had the opportunity to rewrite vi’s intro post, i decided to make some minor tweaks here & there. & without further ado, here is violet ( again ) !!

a TAYLOR HILL lookalike was strolling down broadway street in their giuseppe zanotti high heels. violet lennox just had a birthday party for her twenty second birthday. she has been living in new york city for fourteen years. i hear she tends to be melodramatic at parties, but also kind of benevolent.

basics ;;

full name:  violet ( soft & sweet ) faith ( unquestioning belief and complete trust in god ) lennox ( northern irish / scottish last name ).

nicknames: vi, v.

age: twenty-two.

birthday: 25 may 1996. 

zodiac: gemini. 

gender: cisfemale. 

pronouns: she / her / hers. 

sexual orientation: bisexual ( in the closet ). 

nationality: american. 

hometown: aspen, colorado. 

parents: diane galindo ( brooke shields ) & richard lennox ( rob lowe ). 

siblings: older sister ( lily collins ). 

pet(s): 6 month old miniature labradoodle named tate. 

religion: roman catholic. 

height: 5′10.

occupation: instagram model / model / socialite.

positive traits: honest, loyal, passionate, responsible, authentic, affectionate, reliable, kindhearted, & courageous. 

negative traits: loud, manipulative, stubborn, materialistic, selfish, abrasive, hypocritical, insecure, & dramatic. 

hobbies: shopping, audrey hepburn movie marathons, traveling, being the center of attention, photography, spontaneous dance parties, working out, massages, doodling, pilates, online shopping, & journaling. 

habits: interrupting someone mid sentence, excessive hair tucking, shoulder rolling, lip biting, & impatiently tap her heels or nails when she is at a loss for words or annoyed. 

aesthetics: silk dresses, red lingerie, lip gloss, lipstick stained coffee mugs, matte nail polish, glitter, dainty jewelry, diamonds, snow days, satin sheets, impulsive shopping sprees, romantic comedy binge watches, ocean waves, lolita, bright lights, day drinking, champagne for breakfast, iced matcha, lingerie as outerwear, yves saint laurent black opium perfume sprayed on the nape of her neck & her decolletage, lavender oil, freckled skin, acrylic nails, snow blanketing trees, hardwood mahogany floors, hgtv reruns, vintage chanel, pretty in pink, rose gold accents, bubble baths after a long day, half naked pictures, & rose water. 

style inspo: taylor hill, kylie jenner, candice swanepoel, josephine skriver, kendall jenner, blair waldorf, & cher horowitz. 

muse inspo: brooke davis ( one tree hill ), cher horowitz ( clueless ), blair waldorf ( gossip girl ), gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ), mini mcguinness ( skins ), holly golightly ( breakfast at tiffany’s ), kelly kapoor ( the office ), rachel green ( friends ), & mona-lisa saperstein ( parks & recreation ).

background ;;

violet faith lennox is diane galindo’s & richard lennox’s youngest child. born three weeks early on 25 may 1996 at aspen valley hospital in aspen, colorado. the very moment they held their daughter ( who they lovingly referred to as a ‘ blessing ‘ ) in their open arms, they knew that their family was finally complete.

her mother ( diane ) is her parents’ pride & joy. as the eldest daughter of wealthy wall street executives, she has done nothing but make her family proud her entire life. growing up, her dream in life was to help her father’s business but her career quickly changed course when she decided to pursue a career in medicine. the new york native eventually ended up going to harvard medical school in boston, massachusetts where she would end up meeting her future husband. to this day, dr. galindo is one of the most recognizable names in medicine & is world renowned for her work as a reproductive endocrinologist ( fertility specialist ). 

her father on the other hand ( richard ) was born to an influential family in los angeles, california. from an early age, he was exposed to the spotlight due to the fact that his own father was governor of california & hoped to become president one day. however, things seemed to go off course the day the former governor was caught in his own cheating scandal all while being married to a former pageant queen. scandal erupted when the politician not only cheated on his stunning wife with a young secretary but when his mistress announced to the world that she was pregnant. the entire news circuit covered this affair for months & the governor resigned from his position when news broke that he urged his mistress to get an abortion.

following the scandal, the family fell out of the public spotlight. they spent years trying to repaint their public image after it was tarnished for nothing but selfish desire. approximately ten years later, the family made news again but this time about their newly found faith in god joining the long list of religious right wing politicians. richard’s father felt as if the only way to redeem himself was to devote himself to god. after years of distancing themselves from the catholic church, the family dove right back in which became the start of their fundamental catholic values that ruled every aspect of their lives.

as the only son in the family, richard’s parents had high expectations for him. however, he seemed to have different plans for himself that didn’t involve making his family proud or practicing what they preached. as an undergraduate student at yale, his interests were far & few between. his days only seemed to consist of sleeping with random women & binge drinking to his heart’s content. he knew that he didn’t have to be an astounding student because he had a giant trust fund waiting for him at home. but after a drunk driving accident that resulted in a 40 year old woman’s hospitalization & his own arrest, richard knew he had to clean up his act. 

he eventually followed his family’s lead & became an ultra religious catholic. he even managed to boost up his grades & get an academic scholarship to harvard law school where he met diane.

diane didn’t come from a strong religious background. in fact, she liked to tell people that she only believed in science & didn’t have faith or trust in a superior figure. but when she met a young richard lennox, her entire world was turned upside down. she let him into her life, converted to catholicism, & the two got married after three years of dating. 

flash forward to 1992. the married couple is moving to aspen, colorado for diane’s new job at an upscale hospital. they even received a generous check from richard’s parents to buy a mansion in the mountains !!

life for the couple in colorado was serene. they eventually welcome their first child into the world ( a daughter ) & a few months later, their families moved to help them raise their children. both diane & richard always wanted a big family due to their catholic faith. they both agreed they would stop after 6 kids, however, their minds were quickly changed when she became pregnant with violet.

her pregnancy was extremely difficult to say the least. between being on bed rest for months & frequent hospitalizations, she didn’t know if she could do this again. on top of her own health issues, she also had problems with her unborn child. there was even a night where they thought they would lose violet after diane experienced unexplainable bleeding & her fellow colleagues at the hospital couldn’t detect a heartbeat.

luckily, they were able to find a heartbeat after 6 minutes of deafening silence & hushed prayers for a miracle. after that night, they knew that their daughter was a blessing which is why they agreed to give her the middle name faith which symbolizes their unrequited devotion to god. 

eventually, violet was born !! she was born three weeks early & spent a week in the icu but overall she was healthy. she was a bit underweight but she was miraculously healthy. but after everything the family had been through, they decided that violet would be their last child. 

as a child, violet did every thing her parents had asked of her. their faith played a large role in her upbringing which is why she spent every sunday inside of church. 

by the time she was 8 years old, her family decided to move to new york city due to the fact that her mom received a prestigious job on the upper east side. at the age of 8, violet was already a competitive gymnast who’s likes included spending time with her family, competing, & going to school. even then she knew she could do everything she loved in another state which is why she didn’t put up much of a fight when she was told that they would be moving across the country. 

moving from snowy open colorado to the upper east side of manhattan was definitely a culture shock for violet even at an early age. nonetheless, she eventually got used to new york city life & to this day she doesn’t think she would survive a week in colorado. 

even after she moved to a new part of the country, violet remained devoted to gymnastics & her family. she had dreams of one day going to the olympics for gymnastics & everyone who knew her saw her potential. she even competed in world events & became a household name !! although, her parents often emphasized that school & religion come first which is why they made her & her sister attend a private catholic school all the way through high school.

in high school, she was a classic goody two shoes church girl. she was a strong student who received perfect grades in order to please her parents. for the longest time, she didn’t have time for anything other than school & sports but that changed by the time she was 16.

despite attending an all girls school, violet met her first boyfriend through one of her mutual friends. & like all stereotypical teen romances, it was love at first site. she was so infatuated with him that she was willing to put everything in her life on the back burner in order to focus on him. 

& by the time she was 18, she received numerous academic & sports scholarships to prestigious colleges. however, violet decided to take a gap year in order to spend more time with her boyfriend of two years. she knew that she would eventually go to college but she wanted to make some time for herself first. her parents weren’t exactly happy about her decision due to the fact that she has big shoes to fill but they eventually came around the idea & were even happy for their daughter & her wholesome catholic boyfriend.

during her gap year, they spent an entire year traveling the world. they went to bali, greece, peru, brazil, iceland, dubai, thailand, argentina, & morocco. throughout the course of the year, violet documented her travel on her instagram & other social media platforms which is when she started gaining a lot of followers who wanted to watch her travel the world with the love of her life. before her influx of instagram followers, not a lot of people outside the world of gymnastics knew who she was. people of course knew who her parents were ( a famous doctor & lawyer ) but the world did not really know who exactly violet lennox was.

by the end of her gap year violet already had over 1 million followers on instagram !! & she was already getting paid doing what she loves which is travel the world. & since all of this happened during her year off, violet ended up telling her parents that she didn’t want to go to college which damaged their relationship as a result. 

since her parents were so unsupportive of her decision to not go to college & ultimately quit gymnastics, violet ended up moving out of her house & moved in with her boyfriend at only the age of 19. & because her parents were completely unsupportive of her decision not to attend college, they cut her off financially & she was forced to make a living for herself. by this point, her career as a social media influencer was booming so she was already making a lot of money just through promoting detox teas, teeth whitening kits, etc.

it may seem as if life for violet was perfect by this point despite her falling out with her parents. however, that was not the case. even though she fooled the entire world by thinking that she had a perfect relationship, her boyfriend was incredibly abusive towards her & had been ever since the two started dating. although he was never physically abusive, he was mentally, emotionally, & verbally abusive. for years violet made excuses for him & blamed herself for their problems which only made her feel more miserable than she already was. this was her first real relationship & she genuinely thought that they were destined to be together even though she was severely unhappy.

he would constantly cheat, manipulate her, make fun of her appearance & insecurities, & wouldn’t let her do anything without his permission. the two were together for three years & there even was a time where violet became pregnant but quickly had an abortion without him knowing as soon as she found out. just three months after living together, she finally found the courage to break up with him. although it wasn’t easy at first, she’s thankful that she finally got out of a dangerous relationship. she also understands the dangers of social media better than anyone else because she fooled the world into thinking that she was in a happy loving relationship when that was far from the truth.

when violet told the world about their breakup ( most likely in an instagram live or an instagram story ) she ended up losing millions of followers. the majority of her followers only followed her to watch her travel the world with her boyfriend so once they found out that they were no longer together ; they didn’t see the point in following her anymore. 

for an entire year following her breakup, violet began to spiral out of control. she started using drugs, alcohol, & partying as coping mechanisms in order to help her move on & forget about everything she had endured. that of course didn’t work but that didn’t stop her from partying every single night of the week & ending up in a stranger’s bed. eventually, she even leaked her own sex tape & naked pictures to the press in hopes that the press coverage would help make up for the millions of followers she lost on instagram. 

& as she expected, the world would not stop talking about her sex tape for months. she gained the most followers she has ever done & eventually she got real modeling jobs as a result of her popularity. she hasn’t exactly told the world that she was the one who leaked the 20 minute video but everyone in their immediate circle knows she did it & also knows that she has other videos lying around for ‘ emergency ‘ situations. 

however, her parents cut off all contact with her following her scandal & it is still something that cuts deep two years later. she tells herself & everyone around her that she doesn’t need a family but everyone knows that’s a lie. it’s just a lie she keeps on telling herself to feel better about herself. 

violet managed to clean up her act & went from being a social media influencer to an actual model. many people don’t respect her name due to her troubling past with her sex tape & being an instagram model but that doesn’t seem to stop her. she has been featured in the love advent calendar, the victoria’s secret fashion show, & many fashion weeks since then. she is also the youngest global ambassador for lancôme & ralph lauren !! as of recently, she has been doing a lot of work with victoria’s secret & has been featured in many catalogs & even became the newest face for one of their fragrances. although she has become more of an actual model rather an instagram model, she still stays loyal to her social media platforms which is why she has over 100 million followers. 

she lives a happy life after being so unhappy for so long but she still seeks her parents approval even though they have no contact with her. 

personality ;; 

for someone who is incredibly smart, she pretends to be dumb sometimes. she doesn’t think that guys like smart girls so she dumbs herself down. but she could also be a ditz at times ( unintentionally ).

she likes to think of herself as approachable but she also knows that she can be intimidating. nonetheless, she tries to be nice to everyone who comes her way unless they say the wrong thing to her & then she switches on her mean girl switch that comes far too easy for her. 

even though violet is a lot to deal with, she is a nice person !! although she does have a flair for the dramatics & denies being dramatic all the time. she also likes to think of herself as a ‘ good girl ‘ even though she is far from one. she loves sex & isn’t afraid to shy away from that but she still tells people that she’s good or an angel because it makes herself feel better about herself.

she also goes to confession 1-2 times a week to pray for her sins in order to get into heaven. she thinks with the amount of adultery she commits on a daily basis she needs to pray for her sins otherwise she won’t go to heaven & she thinks she looks way better in white than in red. 

if you do her wrong, she will go out of her way to make your life a living hell. she is incredibly protective over the people in her life so she will do just about anything for them including berating people. revenge might as well be her last name !! 

she may be loud and unnecessary at times but she is kind hearted and does mean well. even if she does have a bad way of showing it at times. 

miscellaneous ;;

since she comes from a strict traditional upbringing, she was taught that being anything other than straight is wrong. so when violet first started experimenting with girls & even developed feelings for one, she told herself that she was going to hell. this is one of the reasons why she has not come out of the closet or has even come to terms with her sexuality. she denies all past same sex encounters & relationships which isn’t healthy. but since her parents disowned her following her sex tape, she knows that they would hate her more than they already do. if they ever found out that their daughter was anything but straight they would lose their minds & she’s still hoping that one day they could repair their relationship. apparently being bisexual is worse than having a sex tape !!

when she was a competitive gymnast for the united states national team, she was often put on strict diets in order to keep up. as a result of the strict dieting & unrealistic body images, violet developed bulimia as early as 12 years old. so when she quit gymnastics after deciding not to attend college, she was happy. she loved the sport but hated the pressure. even to this day, the sport isn’t actually sure what happened to her because she was an olympic hopeful. they all thought that she could have been the next gold medalist but she values her own mental health & sanity over a couple of medals. & even though she sought help for her eating disorder that reared ugly heads at times, she did slip up a lot while she was with her boyfriend who would make fun of her appearance. even now she isn’t 100% but she is better than she has ever been.

she also had another abortion with sebastian after a one night stand. she doesn’t like to talk about it but she does wonder what her life would look like if she did have the baby or if she could ever get pregnant again.

is extremely flirty & alluring.

violet also believes that the world revolves around her. many people may find her confidence to be annoying or superficial but she takes pride in it because it took her so long to learn how to love herself after being with her first boyfriend.

speaking of relationships, she’s terrible at them. she often runs away when things become too serious, manipulates the people she’s with, or breaks up with them for no reason. her logic is that she wants to hurt someone before they have the chance to hurt her. she still has yet to understand that the rest of the world isn’t like her ex but her past still haunts her every time she catches feelings.

she likes to tell people that monogamy isn’t the life for her which is why she prefers casual sex. she is also a proud sugar baby & has many sugar daddies !! most of them are old & married but she is a sucker for anyone who buys her nice things. 

also has an instagram account for her dog !! 

her most used emojis in her phone are the martini glass, the suggestive face, & the pink glitter heart.

she’s a gemini which means that she is expressive, quick-witted, sociable, and affectionate. 

her favorite tv show is gossip girl. 

her favorite movie is the notebook.

has a passion for photography but hasn’t explored it seriously. she understands that she makes a living off of being another pretty face but she also wants to explore other aspects of her career like photography & maybe even acting.

she often considers going to college or even going back to gymnastics a lot but she not made up her mind yet. she is happy right now as a model but she does miss aspects of her old life.

as an instagram model, she is like kendall jenner or gigi hadid. in other words, she has a large following & people book her for photo shoots & fashion shows in order to boost their own notoriety because it looks better on their part. her walk is average at best but she does have a beautiful face. people hate instagram models working in the real modeling business as it is so they despise an instagram model with a sex tape !!

she lives in a townhouse in chelsea that has been featured in architectural digest twice. her home is filled with hardwood floors, marble, gold accents, & constantly smells like lavender. 

the last concert she went to was lana del rey.

the last song she listened to was everybody loves you by charlotte lawrence.

the last show she binge watched was you.

the last movie that made her cry was tangled.

loves wellness shots after dogpound workouts.

this is her !!

also violet !!

alskdfj violet af 

i can’t Believe this is vi 

very violet

taylor also looks like her alskdjf 

lsdfj vi is kelly

more musings !!

violet on a friday night

alskdfjals

gets daily massages by her french masseuse.

all & all, she is a mess but she loves the people in her life !! 

#wealthyhq:intro #but like this if you want to plot! <3 #emotional abuse tw #eating disoder tw #abortion tw #alkdsjf i'm probably missing something

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

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AN: Inspired by events in BTVS 7.17 “Lies My Parents Told Me.”  Links to character sheets at the bottom of the story.

Chapter 33: New Man

Spike’s heart pounded against his ribs, begging for a break. His lungs burned, each breath large and deep, like he was trying to inhale oceans. He ran until sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped his forehead and stared at his fingertips glistening in the sunlight.

Having run from the house in a t-shirt, the cool winter air nipped at his damp skin until goosebumps peppered his arms. He was still on the outskirts of town surrounded by houses and one mission-style Catholic church.

It clearly not being a day for bursting into flames, Spike entered the church and found two old women praying at the altar. He couldn’t smell them over the incense. Usually, old women reeked of creams, ointments, and god-awful perfume. The stench was part of why vampires avoided the elderly.

He stole a seat in the back at stared at the twisted body hanging at the front of the sanctuary. Like any good Victorian Londoner, Spike had been raised in the church, Anglican specifically, but the idea of God escaped him. Why would anyone, let alone the son of God, sacrifice themselves for him? Who believed he merited a second chance?

An elderly priest leaned into his pew. “Can I help you, my son?”

“Yeah, thought I’d start the new year off right with God, but I seem to ‘ave forgotten my prayer beads.”

The priest smiled at him. “You may borrow mine.” He pulled his rosary, a simple design of dark wood with a brass cross, from his pocket, and dropped it in the vampire’s hands.

The vampire did not burn.

All Dean could understand from the girls screaming at each other was that someone’s something had gone missing. Buffy and Willow were doing their best to calm the situation when he and Sam decided to seek out the quiet of the still-wrecked Impala parked in Buffy’s driveway.

“Maybe it was a mistake not telling them about Lucifer,” Dean said, bunching up a blanket to use as a pillow.

“Trust me, Lucifer isn’t comforting news. Besides, I think they’re still riding the high of burning those Bringers; plus, most of them are starting a new school Monday. Probably shouldn't add to the emotional cocktail.” 

“Are you done touching the feelings?”

Sam shrugged. “I just remember what it was like to be a teenager-by-day, monster-fighter-by-night. Add to that, they’re far from home, have cultural barriers, and are all pretty new to this. They’re not going to be insta-buddies. Besides, it’s not like we didn’t have stupid fights when we were kids.”

“We’d have had fewer fights if you weren’t so stubborn.” A light rain began to patter on the car. The clouds gave the sunset an eerie glow.

Sam tapped the front bench seat, staring at his fingers like they were giving him a message in Morse Code. “I’ve been doing some research.”

“Water is wet.” Dean’s joking did nothing to ease the anxiety on his brother’s face.

“According to Slayer lore--”

“Here we go.”

“--the first Slayer was created by combining the ‘heart of a demon’ whatever that means, with some teenage girl. Good news is, nothing happened to Buffy when we did the exorcism so--” 

“The fuck?” Dean shot up, ignoring his sore body while his blood boiled. “No. You do not just move on from that statement. Were you fucking experimenting on my girlfriend because you thought she was fucking possessed?”

“I didn’t think she was possessed, but that’s what the lore says,” Sam said, innocently. “If I thought she was dangerous, I would have told you.”

Dean knew the look on his brother’s face, and knew he wasn’t sorry one bit. He tamped down the desire to sock Sam in the jaw. “Don’t fucking put on that innocent puppy face with me! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking she’s a vessel, too, and I wanted to know what ‘heart of a demon’ meant because clearly it’s not literal demonic possession.”

“Fuck no it’s not!”

“God, take a breath, Dean. You’re turning purple.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” he yelled. “For once in my life, I feel like I have a fucking life. There is this amazing woman who actually gives a rat’s ass about me for more than one night -- hell, she loves me for christssake -- and you’re pokin’ at her to find out what makes her tick?”

“I didn’t want to tell you because, crazy idea, I thought you’d lose your shit,” Sam snapped.

Dean’s ribs reminded him they were still healing as he tried to take deep breaths. “You have no right.”

Scratching his head, Sam sighed. “Dean, how many comic books have you read? How many horror movies have you seen? Whatever the Slayer is, there’s an origin story, but it’s not the story that’s in the lore. I just want to know why there’s a monster-fighting superhero here, but not at home.”

They glared at each other, jaws clenched, nostrils flaring, for a minute before Sam asked, “Do you want to know what I’ve found?’

Dean didn’t, but he did. He leaned back against the seat and tried to relax.

“Remember how I was looking into possession? It looks like there are only a few types of people who can be possessed -- Slayers, vampires, and witches -- and each has special conditions under which it can happen. We know when someone gets bitten by a vamp, they lose their soul and the demon takes their corpse for a ride. Given what we just did to Spike, that one pans out. But the lore says the Slayer is also possessed by a demon, and that just doesn’t hold --”

There was a knock on the window before Buffy opened the door and climbed in the seat with Dean. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I’m super jealous of the calm in here.” Damp from the drizzle, she nestled against her boyfriend.

Dean was happy to be holding her no matter what his brother thought. He kissed the top of her head, eliciting a contented sigh.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Sam asked.

“Shut up,” said Buffy. “Today’s been weird, okay?”

“Girls okay?”

“Okay-ish? No one’s talking to Lili, but I’m too worried about Spike to care.”

After being freed from the demon parasite that had been riding him for over a century, Spike had run out into the daylight and disappeared. At first, Buffy had been practically giddy. They had taken something from the darkness, but as the day wore on and Spike did not return, she poured her nervous energy into scrubbing the entire house from top to bottom and snapping at anyone who came near. It was like waiting to hear news from the surgeon. Someone had been opened up, but was the operation successful?

“I’m sure the poofy’s fine. He’s probably sulking in a mausoleum somewhere.”

“Or he’s being tortured by Lucifer again,” she said.

“Is he even still a vampire?” asked Sam. “I’m not sure the vampire and the demon are separate here.”

Dean glared at his brother. Not that he shared Buffy’s concern, but the last thing he wanted to do was compound her worries.

She drew little patterns on Dean’s chest with her fingertips, a habit when she was mulling an idea over. “If Spike is okay, if the exorcism managed to get rid of the demon and save the man, I was wondering if we could head to Los Angeles after all this Lucifer stuff is over and maybe --”

“I guess we could ask him,” Sam said, pointing to the end of the driveway where a pale figure paced back and forth in the rain.

They got out of the car as Spike walked by, shivering in his t-shirt. “Got a bloody clown car going?”

“Where have you been?” Buffy asked.

“Around.” He shuffled his feet and bounced, trying to get warm. “Can go all sorts of places in the daylight now.”

Dean tossed him a blanket from the backseat. “You can probably catch cold too. Let’s head in. It’s dinner time.”

The next day, Sam straddled a chair across from Buffy’s desk as they listened to the gaggle of girls on the other side of the cubicle wall. The school’s bewildered guidance counselor was trying to organize the flood of unexpected transfers whose papers Dean had faked.

I can’t believe this is working! Buffy mouthed. Having all but six of them in school all day was a relief.

“I wish we were in the same classes,” Cloé complained in Spanish.

“Chiquita, we’re two grades apart,” Gabi laughed.

“Why couldn’t they lie about that too?”

“It’s only seven hours, and look, we have the same lunch and study hall. Ooh, we have Sam for study hall. He’s cute.”

“Ew, he’s old,” protested Cloé.

Sam pretended he hadn’t heard them and asked Buffy, “Ready to jump back into ‘My parents don’t get me’ and ‘My teachers are so mean?’”

“God yes!” She twirled a pencil in her fingers. “You do remember how unvacationy vacation was, right?”

Sam patted the angry scars that ran across his abs. “I have my holiday souvenirs. Can’t wait for spring break.”

Being back at school was surreal. Sam was about to dive back into nearly eight hours a day helping teenagers and teachers with research, organizing the books, and updating files. Yet his Clark Kent hours bore a sickly green edge today. Caring about the state of the biography section seemed pointless when Lucifer was out of his cage and lurking near the school.

Killing the Turok-Han and a handful of Bringers had been spitting in Lucifer’s eye. Disarming his vampire sleeper agent was stomping the Devil’s toe. Any moment, he could send something new their way -- tormenting visions of the dead, an army of vampires, drunk clowns with knives. Different world. Different rules.

Just then, an unsmiling Principal Wood showed up, eyeing them with suspicion. “Glad to see you’re all up and at ‘em after your accident.”

“Couple of regular Christmas miracles,” said Buffy with a nervous smile.

Wood nodded before turning to Sam, all friendliness gone from his face. “Mr. Winchester, I was hoping to catch you before the bell. Would you mind stepping into my office?”

They walked through the remainder of the girls waiting for a student guide for their first day. Wood assumed his seat and stared at him over steepled fingers. The clock ticked louder than the bustle of students on the other side of the wall. He’d been in enough principals’ offices and interrogation rooms to know this tactic. Sam stared back.

The bell rang.

The clock ticked.

Opening a file, Wood said, “You don’t need to worry about the library. I was able to find a substitute.”

Sam continued to stare.

“I got bored over winter break, decided to investigate. You’re an intelligent man, Mr. Winchester, but something’s always been a little off about you. You swept in out of nowhere right when we needed a new librarian, waving your freshly printed Stanford diploma. You know Mr. Espada the chemistry teacher? He went to Stanford, too. His diploma doesn’t look like yours.” Wood slid copies of both documents across the desk, but Sam ignored them.

“I thought, ‘Maybe they changed the format.’ After all, he graduated a few years before you. But it gnawed at me, so I dug a little further and found Tiffany Tusing. Remember her?”

Judging by the giant smile plastered on Wood’s face, he was about to hit a home-run.

Sam continued to stare.

“Tiffany Tusing died in a car accident in 1993, which I am surprised we didn’t know before seeing as you’re using her social security number. Do you care to tell me why you used the social security number of a dead girl and falsified records to secure a position as Sunnydale High’s librarian?”

“I like books.”

“Suffice to say, as of right now you’re suspended while I investigate further. I will call you when it’s time to clean out your desk.”

Jada was excellent with a knife. Dean sat at the kitchen counter watching her chop vegetables with fury. If she ever decided to throw down against the monsters lurking outside, she wouldn’t be half bad in a fight.

“I still can’t believe he suspended you! Your reviews have been good. He hasn’t complained at all. What is his problem?”

“It’s personality clashes wrapped in politics. I’m sure it will be cleared up soon,” said Sam as he put salmon fillets on a baking sheet. Their fake identities obviously weren’t on the list of supernatural weirdness he’d explained to her.

“Want one, Dean, or are you having dinner with Buffy?” Sam asked with a smirk.

One glance at the fish and Dean curled up his lip in disgust. “Nah, she’s busy with the girls.”

“Girls?” Jada asked brightly, clearly happy to think about something other than how much she hated Principal Wood.

“Remember how I said there’s trouble at Buffy’s?” Sam asked.

“And the trouble is girls?” she repeated with an eyebrow raised. “Little girls or big girls?”

“Too many girls!” Dean grumbled. “Anyway, I think I’ll leave you to your whatever the hell you call that and take this leg out for a spin.” Tired of feeling useless, he had insisted the doctors x-ray his broken ankle. They were shocked to see it had healed in half the normal time, but Dean -- finally cast-less -- scooted out of the hospital before they could start running tests.

“Oh, okay, have a good time, Dean!” Jada waved at him with a smile. She was in comforting mode. He hoped Sam remembered to put a sock on the door.

Full of fries and a cheeseburger, Dean grabbed his beer and sauntered over to the pub’s neglected pool table. Before they’d decided to stay in Sunnydale, he and Sam had hustled pool at every bar in town to keep themselves in beer and scratchy sheets. Enough time had passed, they should be able to do another round. They could at least hit up nearby Santa Barbara. Keep the Potentials in cereal and whatever else a houseful of teenage girls could need.

Halfway through his second rack and third beer, someone said, “You’re pretty good.” At the other end of the table stood a tall, dark man with a goatee and shaved head. He was smiling, friendly.

After Buffy had told Dean about the extensive stalker file she’d found in the principal’s office, he had decided to look Robin Wood up. Brooklyn-born, he moved to the suburbs of Los Angeles after his mother was murdered when he was four. Always athletic, he played baseball and tennis all through school. He’d graduated in the middle of his class at UCLA, and spent several years in Teach for America before heading back to school for an administrative degree. On paper, he seemed like an all-American, up-from-nothing success story. Standing before him now, Dean didn’t like whatever secrets were behind Wood’s shining eyes.

“Wanna play?” Dean asked.

Wood whistled low. “Pretty sure you’d play me out of house and home.”

“Nah,” said Dean, racking the balls, “I only swindle my friends. You new to town, mister, uh?”

“Calvin! Name’s Calvin. Yeah, just moved up here from LA.” Wood extended his hand for a shake, but Dean left him hanging.

“That so?” Dean took the opening break shot, sinking two solids.

“Liking the small town life. Quaint. Calm. What about you, buddy? Lived here long?”

“Few months.”

“What brought you here?”

“Work.”

“Really? What do you do?” Wood asked, clearly determined to keep up his cheerful ruse.

“Exterminator.”

“Exterminator? Are the pests different in Sunnydale than where you’re from?”

“A bit.” Dean sunk two more balls. He was half finished before Wood even started.

Without a clear shot, Wood chose to bump his ball in Dean’s way. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”

Wood pursed his lips and nodded his head. “You’re not the most sociable guy are you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” Dean growled.

“You don’t even know me.”

Dean flexed his fingers. The principal was an inch or two taller than him, with the thick arms of someone who’d spent time punching a bag. But bags didn't hit back.

Dean’s phone rang. Keeping his eye on his new friend, he answered, “Hey Girly. What’s up?”

“I’m done with training. Mind if I come over?” The bubbly tone to her voice indicated patrol had gone well.

“Sounds good.” He hung up and bumped into Wood’s shoulder, smirking. “It’s been fun, Robin. Let’s not do this again.”

Wood banished from his mind, Dean paced his room as he waited on Buffy to arrive. She hadn’t been over since Christmas Eve, and he was still pretty beaten up then. Though he’d spent the last week at her place, they’d barely had any time together.

A satisfied moan came from Sam’s room.

The pressure in Dean’s jeans was painful, so he went to the window to distract himself. He could just make out Orion’s belt through the bright lights of town. Buffy, not knowing where the mythic figures started and stopped, had claimed the cluster of stars making Orion’s shield as her own. The Slayer’s Heart, she called it. It was sappy and silly, but it was theirs. He wanted to share the sky with her.

Turning his face from the heavens to the street, Dean’s smile faded. A blue 1997 Dodge Stratus, the same car Robin Wood drove, was parked across the street. Dean was lacing his boots to confront the principal when Buffy opened his bedroom door.

In an instant, she was in his arms, her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the wall. Their kiss long and deep reveling in their perfect fit. “Missed you, Girly,” he said as he moved to kissing her neck.

A moan rose from deep in her throat as she played with his hair. “I can’t stay long -- twenty minutes tops, but I had to see you.”

He set her on top of his dresser and rubbed her leather-clad thighs. She knew those pants drove him crazy. “You’re smiling like you had a good day.”

“Mostly. You’re out of your cast. Spike came out of the basement and tried to feed himself; Alma had to teach him how to cook. Both Vi and Keisha staked vampires tonight. That’s three successful trainee patrols in a row.”

“I miss patrolling with you.”

“You, mister, are distracting with those kissable lips.” She sucked on his bottom lip like he was her favorite candy. “And that deep, rumbly voice. God, when you talk dirty--” She tugged off his shirt, a wolfish hunger in her eyes. “Other than the little things like Lucifer being out there doing God knows what and Wood suspending Sam--”

“Ugh.” Dean shook his head. “That jackass is outside.”

“What?!”

“Wood. I went down to the bar for dinner, and he was there trying to chat me up. Now he’s parked outside.”

Buffy dashed to the window. “I see you!” she yelled, pointing at her eyes and the car. It pulled away, disappearing down the block.

“Well, he just jumped up my priorities list,” she grumbled, the smile leaving her face for the first time.

“I was gonna pay him a visit tomorrow.”

“Don’t kill him.”

“That’s not Plan A.”

Sliding his hands under her sweater, he cupped one of her breasts. The tension melted from her face as he kneaded her body. “Right now, Plan A is to see how many times I can make you come in twenty minutes.”

“Challenge accepted,” she purred, pushing his pants to the floor.   

Robin Wood lived in a small, well-maintained bungalow six blocks from the high school. The inside was sparsely decorated in cheap furniture from I’m Totally Normal Monthly. The warehouse plastic smell of newness still hung in the air. The kitchen drawers were full of kitchen supplies. The living room drawers were full of typical homeowner paperwork, DVDs, travel mementos, and one picture -- an old white man with his arm around a young black boy. The office was equally boring with proposals, budgets, and books on child psychology and educational theory.

It felt like a set.

In the bedroom, an old steamer trunk and a bookcase stuffed with old leather books sat at the foot of the bed. Like in his own room, the trunk was full of stakes, holy water, crossbows and any other weapon a vampire hunter would need. The extensiveness of the collection told him Wood wasn’t new to hunting -- and if he wasn’t new to hunting, maybe he knew who Buffy was.

He grabbed a book from the shelf and started reading.

After a couple of hours, keys jingled in the door. Not working late tonight. Dean listened as Wood walked around the house with the casual care of someone not suspecting an intruder. He lightly laid his finger on the trigger of his gun and aimed it at the door of the bedroom.

Wood entered the room and betraying only the slightest surprise, raised his hands. “I thought you didn’t want hang out anymore, Dean.”

“I believe in second chances. Haven’t decided yet if I want to shoot you, so I’m gonna put this gun down. You’re gonna go for the machete you keep by the door, but I already moved it. And I think you know fucking with me would hurt.”

Dean held up a book, a journal more specifically. “At first, I guessed you were a hunter with a Slayer fetish. Got all these Watcher’s journals to jerk off to. Explains why you’ve been stalking Buffy so hard.

“Then I get to this.”

He read from the first page, “‘She came back. After surviving her Cruciamentum -- while pregnant no less -- I encouraged Nikki to hide. I made all the arrangements and was ready to face the Council when they discovered the truth.

“‘But I should have known Nikki Wood couldn’t stay away from a fight. She returned with her infant son and went right back into the dark, stake in hand.

“‘Her son is sleeping soundly in a makeshift bed beside me while his mother is out saving the world. It’s not fair she was chosen. Not fair that so much will be taken from her. It is not the boy’s fault, and I fear what will become of Robin when his mother meets her inevitable end.’”

Dean snapped the book shut. “Your mother was a Slayer. So what, you have some oedipal crush on Buffy?”

“Don’t act like you know me,” Robin said through gritted teeth.

“What do you want with Buffy?”

“I’d prefer to tell her directly.”

“You’re driving. Pretty sure you know the way.”

Buffy and her boss sat alone in her kitchen. He stared at his hands with contrition. She hadn’t been sure what to make of Dean’s call telling her he was coming by with the most-likely-not-dangerous principal. “I wish you would have just told me this up front instead of acting like a creepy stalker.”

“In retrospect, I see how my research looked more unwanted ex and less detective dossier, but Slayers aren’t Girl Scouts.”

She watched two dozen Potentials practicing fighting forms in her backyard as she mulled over Wood’s story.

A Slayer had a child. A Slayer was a mother. Buffy firmly rejected certain Slayer traditions. Being alone. Being on the outskirts of society. But being childless always made sense. Even if she and the baby survived the pregnancy, she would never see it grow up. It would never remember her.

She didn’t want her four-year-old son at her funeral. She didn’t want him dedicating his life to avenging her. She didn’t want another Slayer down the line to look in his face and say, “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

Wood sighed, “Can’t say I blame you. First Evil sounds pretty demanding.”

“Keeps me on my toes.”

Spike, his hair mussed from sleep and with dark circles under his eyes, emerged from the basement. “Sorry, I’m just ‘ere for eggs,” he mumbled.

Gabi, Cloé and Vi dashed through the kitchen, giggling. Gabi assumed her instructor’s station at the front of the group outside, while the other two found places in the crowd.

“You’re late!” Dani yelled, zeroing in on Cloé while ignoring the other two.

Cloé bowed her head, her shoulders slumping as if bracing for a blow. “I’m sorry, we --”

“I don’t care! This is life and death.” The other girls stopped their exercises and stared at the scene with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Chum because you’re not going to be good for anything other than vampire bait.”

“Hey!” Gabi snapped. “I made them late. If you want to scream at someone you and I can do it later. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Dani curled her lip in disgust as she glared at Gabi. “Look, I’m in charge here--”

“No.” Gabi rose to her full height, a head taller than Dani. “Buffy is in charge. You’re not even number two. You want to take this inside or keep training?”

Looking back at the crowd of expectant girls, Dani pointed at Cloé. “Arms up, ladies! You call that a stance?”

Wood turned away from the scene, eyebrows raised. “At least I’ve solved the mystery of the flood of transfers. I’m assuming the Winchesters forged all of their paperwork?”

Andrew stomped in. “Spike, don’t forget to wash the pan when you’re done. I had to clean all of your dishes yesterday.”

Wood pointed at the two men. “Not Potentials.”

“No! This is Spike and Andrew. The First is after them, so they’ve been living in my basement.”

“Spike and Andrew.” Wood eyed Spike’s back as the former vampire plated his food. “Buffy, does this First thing have anything to do with this goat-face seal I keep finding in the basement?”

Andrew gulped. Spike turned to look at Wood, a burning intensity in his eyes.

“Who are you?” Spike asked.

“Robin Wood, principal at Sunnydale High.” Wood extended his hand, which Spike reluctantly shook.

“Wood’s mother was a Slayer.”

“Slayers have kids?” Spike looked the new guy over with renewed interest.

“One did at least. Nikki Wood. New York. 70s,” Wood said.

“Sorry, my Slayer ‘istory’s not so good,” Spike said, grabbing a fork and taking his eggs to the basement.

With a sigh, Andrew put Spike’s dirty pan in the sink. “You’ve seen the seal?”

“Yeah, someone keeps digging it up. I found a body down there once lying on top of it.”

Andrew avoided eye contact. “What did you do with it? Asking for a friend.”

“Seeing as this is Sunnydale, I buried the kid outside of town. Last time I found the seal exposed, I covered it in concrete, reburied it, piled supplies on it, and had the door welded shut.”

“Thorough,” said Buffy, relieved Lucifer wasn’t going to be able to pull any more Turok-Han from the Hellmouth. At least not soon. “You know if you want to help…”

“Much as I want to spend more time with teenagers, I think I’ll stick to searching for the vampire who killed my mom.”

“You’re certain it’s in Sunnydale?”

“Absolutely. Tell you what. I’ll lift Sam’s suspension. Not like I could have found a replacement librarian in the middle of the year anyway. What’s their deal, by the way? I couldn’t find anything on the Winchesters.”

Buffy chuckled. “The Winchesters are a different kind of wild story. If you want to know, come back and ask them yourself. After you figure out how to get on their good side.”

Spike leaned forward over the utility sink to get a closer look at himself in the mirror. He’d forgotten what he looked like. Too angular for Victorian sensibilities, but handsome for the modern day.

Hadn’t that been the entire problem? William Pratt was always too something for his neighbors, his mother, his adored. Too meek. Too earnest. Too emotional. William Pratt did not belong.

Now wasn’t much better. He wasn’t a vampire, but was he a man? He was stronger than average. A little faster.

Before Drusilla had turned him, he’d written longhand ledgers, a human calculator. What was he supposed to do now? Wash sheets at the Motor Inn, saving to get a crumby apartment? Worry about his cholesterol and toenail fungus? Not think about the murders he’d gladly committed?

No, whatever was in the mirror wasn’t a man.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.

His voice startled Spike, who’d been so absorbed in his reflection, he hadn’t noticed the arrival of his roommate. “I was just marveling at wot a ‘andsome devil I am. Cheekbones.”

“Some guys have it all,” Andrew said with a sigh as he settled onto his cot.

“Is that guy gone? Big black fellow?”

“Yeah, he left a while ago. Didn’t seem too happy.”

“Right, well, I guess I’ll see to that...thing that needs seeing,” Spike said, heading upstairs.

Buffy stood on the back porch, overseeing Dani and Gabi leading the Potentials in a series of martial arts exercises. Spike didn’t know much of trained fighting. Seemed to take the fun out of it, especially when it came to fighting a disciplined, organized, knowledgeable Slayer, the ultimate test of improvisation.

He decided to leave out the front door, but Sam and Dean were in the driveway repairing the Impala. Spike hadn’t seen the car after Buffy wrecked it, but from the stories, he was surprised it wasn’t in a junkyard.

“Hey, Spike,” Sam called, waving him over.

Dean rose from where he’d been crouched by the front fender. “Hit it, Sammy.”

Sam flipped the knob to check one turn signal then the other. Dean gave a thumbs up before disappearing in front of the car again.

“How’re you doing?” Sam asked.

At one point in the underground church, Sam had lost hope and began to confess his darkest deeds. He’d hunted down a demon named Lilith. “I wanted revenge because she’d killed Dean, but Dean was back, so it was really about me, wasn’t it? My power. My abilities. Me saving the day.”

“Did you kill the bitch?”

Sam had chuckled, a thin wheeze, at the question. “You know what I had to do to get strong enough to kill Lilith? I killed and drank a demon possessed pediatric nurse. I drank until she turned ashen. I drank until my stomach strained, and I told myself, ‘Greater good, right?’”

“You’re making me hungry.”

“Wanna know the irony? Me killing Lilith, that’s what unleashed Lucifer.”

And now Sam, far from the brink of death, sat in his brother’s car testing turn signals. A not-so-innocent human with demon-blood tainted veins.

Spike opened the back door and slipped into the back seat. He almost missed the blood lust. His demon had guided him, amping up his every dark impulse for over a century. Without it, he had all of the baggage of someone he knew and no idea where he was going. But he didn’t want to go back. “I feel like I just woke up from a coma, but it’s ‘alloween and I’m in a blimey gorilla costume.”

Sam squinted at him, confused. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Metaphor needs work. Point is, I feel a little out of sorts with just myself rattling around up there.”

“It’ll take some getting used to.”

“Does anyone ever get used to humanity?” Spike asked, twisting his lips in a smirk to cover his sincerity.

“No,” said Sam quietly. “Some voices and faces always haunt you.”

“Like the nurse?”

Sam looked away in shame. They may both be killers, but only one of them had ever been proud of it. “Her husband never even knew what happened.”

“But sorry doesn’t change the past, no matter ‘ow many lives we get, does it?”

“No.”

“But life is just living, isn’t it?” Spike said. “The pain, the sex, the shame, the victories, they’re all part of the package.”

Finished with training, the Potentials began to flood the front yard, doing cartwheels and chasing each other. Enjoying the last bit of sun before nightfall forced them inside.

Giant grin plastered on his face, Dean sauntered around the car. “Baby’s ready to roll, Sammy.” His grin faded a bit when he saw Spike. “Dude, you’re practically glowing. It’s like you haven’t seen the sun in a century.”

Spike sighed. “Look out, George Carlin. A new wit has arrived.”

Dean shrugged. “We hid the beer in the cooler if you want one.” He left them to pick up his tools.

Sam smiled, soft and concerned, at Spike. “One day at a time. It’s going to be hard and weird, but I’m here for you. Call me if you feel like doing anything stupid.”

Spike was about to do something stupid. He paced in the pool of a street light in front of the little green bungalow. He wished he had a cigarette, but trying to smoke made him cough, his lungs burn. After sunset, he’d had a beer or three to convince himself his idea wasn’t suicidal.

What he did know with certainty: William Pratt would not have come. William Pratt would have wrung his hands, written at length, then waited in hiding until his mother handled the problem.

Damning evidence in hand, Spike would confront this head on.

He knocked on the door. Robin Wood answered immediately as if he’d been waiting on Spike to call. “I heard about your mum, and I, uh, I have information about her.”

Wood nodded slowly. “Meet me in the back, okay?”

New York in the 1970s had stunk of piss and cheap cigarettes. Between horny business men looking for fun in Times Square and a flood of punks wandering in and out of clubs, it was an easy meal. Not even having a Slayer in town did much to stem the tide of deaths.

Behind Wood’s house stood a dark garage with the door ajar. Spike peeked inside. “‘ello?”

It hadn’t taken Spike long to hunt down New York’s Slayer. Tall and lithe, Nikki moved with the grace and force of a prize fighter, exposing bone with her fists, sending teeth flying into the night. Spike watched her as she killed standard vampires without breaking a sweat. Once she tangled with two members of the Sisterhood of Jhe, throwing one into the other, impaling them at the same time when they were trapped in a dumpster. He was going to enjoy dancing with her.

A sting in his neck. Spike spun on his heels and knocked a shadow back against the garage door frame. Feeling woozy, he raised his fists.

Spike and Nikki had fought in the park a week before, a congenial how-do-you-do sort of fight. When he caught her in the subway, empty but for a few late-night party kids puking their guts out, he knew she was tired and ready to fold. With a smile on his face, he’d snapped her neck.

The door slid closed. Wood chuckled, “Feeling a little sick? My own mix. A little sedative and a little holy water.” The light blazed on, highlighting the cross-covered walls.

Wood, slipping on a pair of brass knuckles, stood between Spike and the door. “Oh, did you think I didn’t know you, Spike? British punk trash. About a hundred and forty. Lately, spotted with the Slayer. Strange since he killed two, including my mother.”

Spike dodged a punch. He may not be a vampire anymore, but he was still oddly quick. “What’s the plan then? Kill me and mummy comes back to you?”

They circled each other. A jab. A weave. The formerly cool principal was practically rippling with rage.

Wood lunged. Spike grabbed his arm and swung him into a table, knocking the air from him.

“She didn’t say anything when I killed her. No begging. No pleading. No final thoughts of you.”

“She died a hero, unlike you,” Wood growled.

“Maybe we died the same,” Spike said, ignoring the threat in Wood’s voice. “Alone, in the dark, running away from people who cared about us. Is that what bothers you most? Mummy’s good and dead because she kept picking us over you.”

Wood shouted, picked up a set of throwing knives, and began to use him for target practice.  Thunk! The first blade hit the wall close to Spike’s head.

Thunk!

The sedative was pulling Spike down, his limbs rubber, his vision blurry. He twisted trying to dodge the knives, but one grazed his side, another cut into his arm.

Thunk! Thunk!

Once the knives were all stuck in the wall behind him, Spike dove at the principal’s legs. They rolled on the ground, trading punches. Spike jabbed Wood with his elbow and landed a cracking blow to his ribs.

“Show me your real face!” Wood screamed, rolling on top of Spike, hitting him over and over. Spike could feel his flesh tearing, the blood spilling out as vengeance pummeled his face and body.

Using every bit of strength the drugs had left him, Spike pushed Wood off and grabbed a cross from the wall.

Nothing happened.

Wood stared, dumbfounded. “But the Watcher’s diaries --”

“Were right,” Spike said, pointing to a plastic grocery bag he’d dropped by the door. “I killed your mum. Came here to apologize. But then you were a twat so I didn’t.”

Holding his breath and with his eyes still on Spike, Wood knelt down to open the bag. Inside was a long leather coat. His mother’s coat.

The garage door slid open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” yelled Buffy.

The principal, bleeding from a cut above his eye, rose and glared at Buffy. “This doesn’t involve you, Slayer.”

“You beat up one of my friends, you bet it involves me,” she said through gritted teeth.

Wood snorted, eyeing Spike with disgust as he slowly found his footing. “Friend? Do you even know what he is?”

“The vampire part or the killed your mom part? Yeah, I figured it out.”

Eyeing Spike with a little more curiosity than loathing, Wood asked, “Is he a vampire?”

“Was,” Spike said, trying and failing to stand. “You missed filling your life-long vengeance quest by about two days.”

“There’s -- there’s a cure?” Wood asked quietly.

“Only for very good boys.” Spike spit blood and grinned.

“Are you listening? Because I want to know if you can follow the simplest of instructions.” Buffy asked, her arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. “ But here’s the thing, Robin, even if Spike were still a monster, he’d still be more of a man than you.”

Wood’s jaw flexed, his eyes dark and cold. “You don’t--”

“Did I say you could talk? If you come around me and mine again, I recommend crawling on your hands and knees.” Buffy helped Spike up and lead him outside.

“What were you thinking coming here?” she asked, shifting to support more of his weight.

The cold air sucked at the sweat and blood coating Spike’s skin sending a quick shiver through him. “You really think I’m a man now?”

“Well, Jeffrey Dahmer was a man, so the bar is low.” Buffy stopped and gazed at him. The moonlight glistened in her eyes as she gently touched the bruises on his face. “Do you think you’re not?”

“Thought making amends would be a good first step.” He held his breath while he took in the angles of her nose, her large sad eyes, the fluttering kiss of her fingers.

“You tried to kill me,” she said softly. “Then you helped me save the world. And now look at you with your soul without your demon. You’ve survived more and grown more than most men could dream.”

She shook her head sharply, the trance broken, and continued walking him down the block. “We need to get you patched up. Infections are totally a thing.”

He still craved her touch. “‘ow’d you know where I was?”

“Sam thought you were acting weird. I followed you.”

Spike hoped they weren’t walking far. As the fight drained out of him, the pain grew, his head throbbing, knuckles aching, one ankle sharp. “What do you think’s out there for an ex-vampire? Side show freakery?”

“You know what I want for you?” she asked. “I want you to find someone who could just know William Pratt, the man who has sacrificed himself for love over and over. Sometimes stupidly. Sometimes selfishly. Often perfectly.”

“You a fan of Pratt, then?”

Buffy shook her head. “Not for me, William. Be that man for her, whoever she is.”

With the stomach-churning taste of blood on his tongue, he chuckled. “You think love is in the cards for me?”

She half-smiled. “You’ve been a vampire, captured by the government, and been to Hell. I think you’re due for something good.”

They turned the corner where Dean was waiting in the freshly repaired Impala. Spike sighed but said nothing.

Buffy still picked up on his let-down. “You smell like a vampire Happy Meal. Probably better we don’t walk through town. You can crash at Dean’s. We don’t need the the girls knowing their principal beat up Crazy Basement Guy.”

“Is that what they call me?”

“Also Mystery Guy and Andrew’s Roommate.”

Spike slapped his hand over his heart in mock horror and climbed in the backseat of the Impala.

Read Giles’ dossiers on: Lili    Alma   Dani    Vi    Cloé      Molly     Lys     Grace    Wook    Keisha    Leticia     Naomi   Kate    Gabi   Jabulela

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#spn x btvs #buffy x dean #buffy supernatural crossover #spn fanfic #btvs fanfiction #btvs series #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #buffy summers #spike #robin wood #sam winchester #potential slayers #andrew wells #buffy fan fiction #dean x buffy #btvs x spn #hunters on the hellmouth #huntersonthehellmouth

[marriagelawrp]

« THE HOMEMAKER »   ❝ LO & BEHOLD YOU’RE SOMEONE’S WIFE, AND YOU BELONG TO THEM❞

Full Name: Priscilla Mary Franks

Age: Twenty-two

Gender: Female

To Marry: The Stripper

Occupation: Unemployed

Ethnicity: French & German

Faceclaim: Lili Reinhart

    ✕ BACK IN THE DAY, WHEN I WAS YOUNG ✕

Priscilla was born to John, a plumber and Rachel Franks, a housewife on the 23rd of April 1995. Her parents were forty-one when she was born, three months before her mother’s due date. She had to stay in the hospital for a month, before she could go home with her parents who were over the moon to finally have a little girl. They already had five sons, named John Jr., Boaz, Moses, Seth and Caleb who were between the ages of twenty and five years old when she was born.

She grew up in a loving family, she really did, and her childhood was a happy one. Her brothers always looked after her, protected her and were always there for her. Her parents adored her and gave her everything she wanted, if they could afford it.

They also instilled in her the Catholic values and beliefs they so cherished and she learned to love them as a small child. She had a beautiful singing voice and eventually, she joined the church choir. She loved getting dressed up every Sunday, she loved listening to the beautiful stories of the Bible and seeing her friends at church. To this day, she adheres to her Catholic faith, goes to church and prays three times a day.

The Franks’ Christian values weren’t all that were instilled in her. Her father’s conservative views on what a woman’s role was, were also pumped into her from a young age. She was taught how to cook, clean, iron… was taught how to do everything a good woman was supposed to do. Her father also controlled what she could and couldn’t wear and certainly did not permit her to date.

From the outside looking in, most people would think that what Priscilla was going through as a teenager, would spark rebellion because she was controlled by her father but really, she didn’t know any better and she was quite happy. She loved church, she was good at cooking and didn’t mind helping her mother around the house. She loved beautiful dresses and wasn’t all that interested in boys. She had no desire to rebel.

That was, until her father started to protest her plans to go to college. She had always thought that just like her brothers, she’d go to college, but her father had other plans for her. He wanted her to find a nice young man at church – he even gave her some suggestions – and get married. She wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of marriage, but she wanted to wait a few more years. She wanted to study something, so she could earn her own money and contribute to a family. She even threw an uncharacteristic temper tantrum. It was her mother, who always was the peacemaker at home, that convinced her father to let her go to community college. Her father decided that the best option was to study accounting, and so she did. That way, she could work for her father’s plumbing business. It was her father’s way of controlling her, deep down she knew that, but she was so happy that she could go to college that she didn’t protest.

Against her expectations, she loved accounting, because it was structured and because it was so satisfying to her when in the end, everything just fit in her calculations. She went to college, but still slept at home and rarely got to attend a party but she did sometimes get her parents’ approval. She wasn’t a party animal, but she always had a nice time. It was through those parties, that she realized that she was quite different from the other girls. It wasn’t just her faith, it was mostly that she didn’t understand why they were fawning over these supposedly hot boys. They looked nice, they were fun to be around but nothing more. It took her until the start of her last year of college to realize that she didn’t notice the boys, because she was too busy looking at the girls.

That realization shook her to her core. Not only was that against her religion, which she cherishes with all her heart, but it was also because her family would never accept that she was attracted to women. That just wasn’t going to go well for her at all, and so she didn’t tell anyone and pushed it down. She wouldn’t speak of it, ever. That didn’t mean she stopped thinking about it though, and through some LGBT Christian online forums, she found views on Christianity and sexuality, that she could understand and agree with. It is very new, but she has managed to reconcile her faith with her sexuality in the last six months. She hasn’t officially come out yet, and it something that scares her but she knows it will be necessary because, she made an impulsive decision that will out her in the short term.

That faithful decision was made when the form from the government came, which she had to fill in. The government would find her a spouse and unlike many others, Priscilla didn’t really mind it that much. She’d always known her spouse would be chosen for her, it didn’t matter whether it was her father or the government. What was the difference? The only thing she was surprised by was that the questionnaire asked which gender she was attracted to. She had automatically assumed that all women would be paired with men, and that was something she didn’t really want but she had accepted that. Now, she suddenly seemed to have an option. The time she stared at that box was far longer than necessary and she even skipped it until the end and then, before she folded it and put it in an envelope, she crossed ‘women’. She chose to tell the truth.

It took her a long time to really understand why exactly she did what she did but upon reflection, there was one difference between the government and her father. At least with the government, she could be married to someone of the gender she knew she was attracted to. That didn’t mean that she’d like the woman that was chosen for her, but at least there was a small chance that there would be some sort of connection, whether it be romantic or sexual. She hasn’t admitted her attraction to women to anyone though, which means that revealing who her spouse is, will be her coming out towards the people she knows.

And the one coming out she has had, hasn’t gone smoothly at all. Her father has seen the letter she got back from the government, telling her who her spouse was going to be. Her fiancée’s name was clearly female, and her father hit the roof. She didn’t say anything other than ‘I must have made a mistake, father, I’m sorry’ but he didn’t care. He is now petitioning to get his daughter’s spouse changed, even if that isn’t legally possible. Her mother hasn’t said much, but Priscilla can see in her eyes that she knows it wasn’t a mistake and it is surprising to Priscilla that she doesn’t see disapproval or disappointment. At least there is that.

Now, Priscilla is working for her father’s company, doing his accounting and still living at home, even though their relationship is tense. Her father knows that she meant what she wrote on the form, but he isn’t ready to acknowledge that, he may never be, but Priscilla sees a way out of this situation through marriage. She really wants to try and make this arrangement work, even though she is terrified of people learning about her sexual orientation. All in all, she really has always dreamed of being a wife and a mother. She just hopes the other woman will want to give it a real go as well.

✕ THE STORY ABOUT MY LIFE IN THE PRESENT ✕

✕ WHERE THEY LIVE ✕ You were raised by a working class family with very traditional, conservative, and mostly outdated American marriage values. Because of this, you still live at home with your parents and will do so until you are married. Your family was originally from the Midwest but the virus epidemic forced you all to move to New York City when you were young, in order to to stay safe.

✕ THE JOB THEY HAVE ✕ Your parents have been supporting you under the belief that the responsibility of supporting you will be passed on when you get married. You have a number of hobbies and skills you have mostly honed at home and with some community college classes, and you have sometimes earned a little money for helping out family friends, but you have not yet held down a paying job.

✕ THE MARRIAGE LAW ✕ With nearly eighty percent of the population dead because of a virus outbreak, the world is in dire need of repopulation. The government stepped in and created a marriage law, giving people eight weeks to marry a stranger chosen to them by the Government. Your letter came this week, and you have eight weeks to marry The Stripper.

     ✕ THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE  ✕

THE WIDOW - He used to be your parent’s accountant, and when he left to take over his wife’s business, your family maintained loyalty by patronizing the business. You are a regular customer and sometimes hang out there when you want a little time away from home.

THE TROUBLEMAKER - You landed in a little bit of trouble because of him a few years ago and although it was a minor, you still haven’t forgiven him for it.

THE STRIPPER - Your parents are under the impression that your provider will be a working husband, but you have been privately questioning your sexuality for some time and reflected this on your registration form for the law. This is how you ended up matched with The Stripper, whom you now have 8 weeks to marry.

                      THIS CHARACTER HAS A FLEXIBLE FACECLAIM                              & IS CLOSED FOR AUDITION

[eryllecordero-blog]

The Regency Experience

Assessing myself after almost a year of pastoral regency at Immaculate Conception Parish, Quirino, Ilocos Sur, I believe that the program has become a grace filled moment. The guidance from the Seminary fathers, especially on mapping the areas that I need to take into consideration put me in a setting that help me respond more maturely to the call of priesthood. The guidance of our Regent Director, Rev. Fr. Adel Agcauili, inspired me to own this regency experience as an avenue to grow and develop. My stay at Quirino, Ilocos Sur, turns to be a foretaste of the life of a cleric – a life that awaits my service and love. Being one with the faithful immersed with their life situation gave me a firsthand experience of both the joys and challenges of the call I am responding to. It instilled in me the values of humility, thankfulness, and dependence on God’s grace. Moreover, being assigned as a co-journeyer of our catechists and the young members of the Knights and Lilies of the Altar has become a high road to enhance my dedication and patience. Indeed, the congruence of what I know and on what I do lies on the selfless sacrifice I make. Journeying with Rev. Fr. Erwin Echalas has become an opportunity towards a sustaining inspiration to be a person for others, committing one’s self to God’s providential love. His dedication to prayer life animates me to do the same. He offered me the needed freedom to bring out my personal initiative so as to address my issues. He has become more of a brother to me. Since my regency program at Cervantes, Ilocos Sur, I was able to experience being with the people in different Barangays, with diverse life situations, cultures and practices. During our Upland Summer Apostolates, more often than not, Barangay Immersion is included. What makes my Barangay Immersion at Immaculate Conception Parish, Quirino, special is my broader awareness of its real value with regard to my response to the call of priestly vocation imbibing what “going to the peripheries” mean. Moreover, being mindful of my growing edges helped me appreciate the opportunity given to live with the faithful in their simple way of living as an avenue to mature. My first Barangay assignment was in Gimong Patungcaleo. I was warmly welcomed by Tsong Pedro and Anti Mel-is in their humble home. In my stay there, they provided generously two of the best treasures they possess – time and life experiences. I have come to appreciate how they struggle to raise their family amidst poverty. They remain active in Church activities, confident in God’s sustaining grace, and hopeful for a better future most especially for their broods and grandchildren. Conversing with the faithful of the said Gimong, I was able to see and appreciate their “diskarte” and endurance with regard to their personal and family struggles. Each person has a story to tell. Each story is inspiring and thought provoking. They offered me with lessons and insights on how to deal also with my personal life struggles. The sacrifices of Tsong Annod and Tsang Luz to own the joy of raising a child; the predicaments of Ma’am Aida in raising her children especially in dealing with the hardheadedness her first child and the joy she felt when this son became a successful policeman; the desire of ading Princess to have better life for her family through studying well; the struggle of Tsong Amor to stop drinking liquor; the desire of Mang Mabini to raise their children in the catholic faith; the sickness of Tsang Elsie and the desire to continue her active participation in their Gimong; these stories and more encouraged me to converse with the people for this experience bring about a deep sense of humility, guidance, inspiration, and gratitude. My greatest struggle at Gimong Patungcaleo was the comfort room at Tsong Pedro’s home. It is being used by 2 families. Moreover, It is too small that I need to squat. However, it taught me how to adjust to these kinds of situation. Rather than complain, I have become thankful for the presence of a comfort room to where I stayed for more than two weeks. In my stay at Gimong Lamag, I experienced firsthand the process of planting rice for a day. Indeed, it is not easy! It caused me body pains for three days. But with the said experience, I became more appreciative of the life situation of our farmers, the sacrifices they make for their family and their effort to actively participate in Church’s activities amidst the nature of their work. Being with the people of Lamag, I have come to recognize that they are, indeed, a hardworking people. For them, playing basketball is a huge privilege even for students and pupils. Going to their workplace – the “away” – is the priority. Even an old woman whom I thought will not endure to walk even just a kilometer would carry a mass of dried wood from the “karayan” so as to use for cooking. She needs to literally go down and climb a mountain to do it, and it is done daily. These people sacrifice for others, especially for their family. Why shouldn’t I do the same for the Church? These people fueled my desire to initiate selfless service for God and His people. An unforgettable experience I had in Lamag was the unavailability of mirror in the home where I stayed. This seemingly insignificant yet insightful experience taught me that external factors are not important with regard to my relationship with the people. What is important is my willingness to share my time, life experiences, and talent with the faithful. What I need is to focus within. Also in Lamag, I have come to savor unusual food like “bakatey”, “barotiktik”, “tokling”, “Imelda”, “kuraraknit,” “linubbok a kardis” and more. The company of Sir Rik-rik, Mang Ryan, Mang Cosme, and Mang Henry made me realize that there are plenty of things with regard to the life situation of the people that I don’t know yet that which I ought to know. Things like, the importance of water irrigation or the “payas”, the effects of mining in the land fields and rivers, the process of planting and harvesting rice, how to take care of a “dingwen a baboy, kalding, karabaw wenno nuang”, how to get fish through “panagkammel,” “panagtabukol,” or “panagbatok”, and the process of using the “dapilan” among others. Indeed, learning is not isolated in books, it is found primarily in the daily grit and grind of human life. After my stay at Gimong Lamag, I have come to experience living with the faithful of Gimong Iteb. Compared to the previous Barrios, being in Iteb has an added challenge for me. I had the chance to be with Inang Leonora, one of our parish catechists. Inang Leonora has the tendency to insist on what she know is right. If she doesn’t what something, or if her stand is not granted, there is a drastic change in her mood and would not cooperate well with others. More often than not, she doesn’t what to be corrected. She defends her position no matter what. These attitudes, in one way or another, repel me from her. Well, being advanced in age and laden with a number of sicknesses may cause these behavioral patterns most especially in times when she doesn’t want to do her apostolates. Being aware of this feeling gives an extra impetus for me not to do the same. The opinions of others are important. I should meet them to a point that would generate a common understanding to a certain goal bearing in mind the circumstantial situation. Solidarity and sentimentality are keys to effective leadership. And most importantly, the way I present my stand should be prudent enough that others will not be hurt. I need not to raise my voice but to build on and improve my arguments. In the course of my stay in Gimong Iteb, I stayed with Inang Raquel. Every after dinner, we get the chance to watch the News. The hot topic back then was the prevalent extrajudicial killings to suspected drug users, pushers, and syndicates. Conversing with her regarding these news updates, I have come to see that there was a need to guide her perception. One time she said, “Nasayaat ti araramiden ni Duterte ta ibusennan dagiti amin nga adik”. Indeed, forming the awareness of the people with regard to Church’s stand to social issues is necessary. Also in Gimong Iteb, there was this one afternoon when I had a chance to play with two young siblings - Shamia and Sheena. I took a couple of photos of them together and bought some “isaw” for us to share during our conversation. While we were getting to know each other, their father noticed us and intervened immediately. He said to his children, “Saan tayo a kasektaan dayta, intayo ketdin agawid”. He took them and went home. I felt hurt with the action of the father yet I could not do anything with regard to the situation at hand. However, through that experience, I was able to reevaluate the way I deal with other Christian denominations. Am I doing just the same? Do I have personal bias, sense of indifference, or prejudices in my dealings with them? I should not label others and put a color of discrimination on what they believe and practice. I should treat them as brothers and sisters, and of course, with due respect. Just like the two children, I should consider everyone as my friend. When I was in Ited, I noticed that when I’m bored and had no one present to talk with, I had the tendency to play a game on my cellphone and just sit on a certain corner. Worst is that I extend my playing time for an hour or two. More often than not, my excuse was that everyone was busy anyways. This awareness encourages me to be creative with my idle moments. Rather than play some computer games, why not sweep the floor or water the plants. That would be more beneficial for the community. Before I went to go to Gimong Namitpit as my task after Gimong Iteb, unfortunate news broke the hearts of the faithful of Quirino. The father of Apo Erwin passed away. When I was in Gimong Namitpit, everyone was affected because of the said predicament. Everyone lamented for the loss of the family of Apo Erwin. Everyone wanted to extend their condolences to the family members. When we celebrated the feast of St. Joseph the Husband of Mary, the patron saint of the said Gimong, they considered the situation of the servant-leader of the parish and made it just a simple festivity. Because of this experience, I was able to understand firsthand the effects of the situation of the parish priest with the local faithful. How much more when a parish priest is devastated because of a certain scandal made by him? The faith of the people of the parish is at the same time affected and distressed. I stayed in the home of Tsong Mino and Aunt Linda during the course of my stay at Gimong Namitpit. There were moments when I was tasked to cook food for us all especially when Aunt Linda was not around. In addition, I had the chance to babysit three children – Angela, Shantal, and Jono. These were partly due to the ailment Tsong Mino was undergoing that time. For almost a couple of weeks, I had the chance to be a father – slash – mother to three “action-packed” children. Indeed, it is not an easy job! Patience is much needed when dealing with children especially when they get to use with people they are with. This experience boasted my respect for couples especially for single parents. Being in the Barangays also became an avenue for me to be with children. There were numerous benefits and learning I took in making myself present to them. One of which was with regard to the test of patience. Often, children are too playful. They are easily irritated. They insist on what they want. However, I took the risk and its valuable advantages overwhelmed me. It became an opportunity to fill and sustain the pain I had when I was just like them. I felt loved by them. It enhanced the sense of gratitude regarding my relationship with my family members. They taught me to be dependent on God’s providential love and to stay cool amidst trials. In a way, I was able to draw them closer to the Church. Being with the people in the Barrios gave me a strong conviction that, indeed, I am one with them. I belong to them. My love is offered for them. The experience of having no comfortable bed at night, squatting in comfort rooms, no available mirrors around, eating what they are eating, and having weak cellular signal among others make me feel one with the people. Indeed, it is a humbling experience. Flexible adjustment is the key to realize that simplicity is a blessing. It brings about a deep sense of thankfulness. I have come to realize how blessed I am. It is not just getting along or being able to survive. It is becoming one with them in their journey through love. It is good to look at their point of view, to feel what they are really feeling, so that I could give meaning to simple yet priceless experiences. Moreover, aiming for any form of entitlement has no place in responding to the call of priestly vocation. Seeing now myself from a newer perspective, I can say that I have come to develop a more functional ear that is sensitive to the needs of others. I have come to realize that arrogance and fear have no place in my heart for it is not the satisfaction of the self that is at stake but that of fulfilling God’s Will.

[nouvellevague59-blog]

The Morning Before: Written November 2010

The trees have started changing colour and it scares me.  The cold touch of fall is creeping into the warmth of the sun; the greens of the leaves are crisping into yellows and reds.  The tree tops are burning up as the air crystallizes and turns to ice. October is such a wicked month.  This only signals a missed summer in the city, left only with moments of desperation in the sticky country heat of August, when breathing in was like drinking warm water. Father needed me here though, so I came despite myself.

The morning rain falls hard as I step outside, making my way along the Main Street outside of my apartment.  The pavements turn to slate, slippery with dead leaves.  The sun is barely bursting through the overcast, yet I still know its morning; I haven’t slept in a day.  

It was only last night when Father passed away.  A long suffering man, it was not a surprise to myself or to my younger brother when the cleaning woman called with the news, that she found Father dead in his bed yesterday morning.  I had only just been there the night before.  

Waxy pale skin hanging off his sunken face.  

The loud clanging of a passing tractor trailer knocks me out of a trance as I cross the street.  When did I start crossing the street?  Nevertheless I was to meet Ian at the church to discuss the details of the service this Sunday with the church pastor.  Preparation detracts from the grieving process quite beautifully.  Without a detailed will, we had to go on ideas left to us through conversation.  A dignified mass, no burial, and a quick cremation.  No lilies, he hated flowers.  A particular hymn Father was found of to play out the casket.  Fairly matter of fact but still in need of a measure of planning.

Stiff hands as I curl mine around his for a parting touch.  

The town of Harrow did not take much time to cross. A country town with a country street, knickknacks of stone geese, cutesy wood worked signs covering porches, and sun bleached white lace curtains on every window.  I hate its simplicity, the Rockwellian atmosphere made me uneasy and I was grateful that Father’s quick passing would afford me the expedient return to my real home in Toronto. I can return to the comfort of the city, without having to feel indebted to another.

He had never asked for much at all.  

In the distance, the outline of my brother huddled under a tree outside the church, waiting for me with a lit cigarette clutched in hand.  The blue smoke created a fog around him, eerily hanging in the air, his body becoming a shadow.   Ian was the one to rebel quite spectacularly.  Shaving his head, piercing his ears and joining an unfortunately named punk band that played for beer. Wanting to feel life under his feet and inside of his chest, not passively collecting it.  My Father and I were never able to pinpoint the one who lit the fire in his belly.  Chained to paper and ink, bound to study like the book we read quietly to ourselves.  Ian became background noise we checked in with from time to time, never an interference.  

Ian’s eyes were still red. Once I could see his face, his grief sat there openly exposed.

“I brought you a tea.”  Outstretched hand, shaking.

I hadn’t cried yet.  The tea was cold and sweet, he had been here for a while.  Silence for a moment while I sipped and smiled gratefully.

“I was going through the old man’s books last night.”  Ian exhales his words to me through smoke.

“Anything good?” I wonder out loud, knowing the answer already.  

“I think that’s better for you to figure out.  He had a beautiful sheet music collection.  Old man stuff, but good.”  Ian always called him old man.  We never knew his younger self.

“You should have those. Maybe we should donate the bulk to the high school where he worked,”  I can’t stop myself from talking faster.  I felt like a scavenger, my eyes wide with the thoughts of picking apart the store of memories he had stacked.

“Did he mention what he wanted done with the house at all?”

“Sell it.  I can’t live here anyway,” Ian smirks with his words, as if its a joke only he is in on.

Awkward silence frequently dots our conversations.  Little more than our blood in common at times.  Rebel and the scholar.  Ian had loved the freedom the countryside afforded him despite his rejection of his foundations, I was simply bored by the emptiness.

“We have time for another smoke?  I don’t want to go in just yet.  I’m afraid of bursting into flames,” his voice has become nervous now.  

“Isn’t it a sin to keep a man of God waiting?”

He already has a cigarette dangling from his lips, lighter in hand.  

“We’ll be sure to get in a confession before we leave, then won’t we?”  Ian could never be serious.  Some laughter, though I can tell he catches it in his throat.  

Wet, caffeinated and dripping in smoke, my brother and I entered the chilly Catholic parish my Father called his second home for the most part of three years.  Trudging up the aisle, echoes bouncing off cheap reproductions of stain glass windows, plain white stucco, a morbidly gold Christ hanging on a cross.  Father would tell me this place brought peace to his life, a purpose, and did not regret life as he once had while raising us alone in a farm house.  Entering a church was seeing the inside of his soul, made him whole.  As an atheist, I only had feelings of impending doom whenever entering any place of worship.  

The Priest was waiting by the pulpit, practicing his sermon for Sunday.  When he saw us amble slowly up the aisle, he quickly walked towards us, swooping forth with open arms.  An empty, symbolic clasped of comfort.

“I am very sorry for your loss.  He was a dignified man, a very welcome part of our community and we are sorry to lose him.”  He looked jovial, his words more sincere then I could hope to hear. “Please take a seat for a moment, I have some paperwork to gather.”  Left as quickly as he was sighted.

Ian and I were unsure of what to talk about in a church, so we remained silent.  After this, we had to go back to the hospital to sign the death certificate. Administration seemed like a comfort.

His hair was white, already a ghost before he passed.  Wasn’t much of a shock.  Just gone.

The funeral will be a without much fanfare.  No invitations need to be extended.  He was an only child.  A quiet librarian of a high school.  Two divorced wives who got as far away from him as possible.  Just me and Ian left. Not much else an old man with a room of books needs.  We can be thankful his eyesight never gave, I had always feared he might have killed himself if that were the case, and then his chances for the eternal salvation he had worked for would all be for naught.  Heart attacks in the middle of the night can be a blessed event.

“Very good of you to care for your Father as he neared the end.  Will you two be staying in town long?”  The voice met us before he returned to the sanctuary, heavy feet clipping down the hallway.

The priest returned with a leather ledger under his arm.

“When his affairs are in order, I’ll be returning to Toronto.  I have a position at the University there.”  My position is methodical, defenses strong.

“Like Father like daughter then.”  The priest doesn’t laugh at his own joke.

Am I a daughter, or a companion?  I was a daughter.

My Father was not a cruel man, nor was he particular bold.  Quiet and kind to others are good words, but not altogether accurate. His children were his students, a professor of philosophy who retired to his hometown to raise his children alone.  Affection was a present only to be expected on birthdays and Christmas morning.  He taught us to read, write and not to speak out of turn, his eternal gifts to us.  My soul is not cold to love, it was just never warmed.

Ian stayed quiet as I quickly outlined out expectations for the service, and I handed him a cheque as a donation towards the congregation.  Business was quick, and we were back outside again and both breathing in with relief.

These flooding memories are disposable objects, yet I can still feel grief swelling in my stomach.

Father was passed.  This chapter was over.  Death is a fact not an event;  I don’t know what else I could have anticipated.

#fiction #shortstory